I Lean To You, Numb As A

Winter Dawn Is The Color Of Metal, The Trees Stiffen Into Place Like Burnt Nerves.

Not Being Perfect Hurts.

The Worst Enemy To Creativity Is Self-doubt.

As From A Star I Saw, Coldly And Soberly, The Separateness Of Everything. I Felt The Wall Of My Skin; I Am I. That Stone Is A Stone. My Beautiful Fusion With The Things Of This World Was Over.

In Spite Of Everything, I Still Have My Good Old Sense Of Humor.